Strength Made Perfect
by shallowdweller
Summary: I changed the name and added on, but it's still a tag to the Graybar Hotel.
1. Walking Wounded

**The Greybar Hotel was incredible! Don't read this tag if you have not yet watched the episode, because this story is chock full of spoilers. I couldn't help myself. The episode was Soooo good it made me wish that the Mentalist was mine. But of course it is not. Still, enjoying the show is worth more than the money one could earn from it. If one did make money from it. I don't.**

**All of you who are doing tags on this one, I made a point not to read other tags until mine was posted. But I promise that I will.**

Walking Wounded

As Abbott and the rest of the team cleared the perpetrators from the scene, Teresa Lisbon stood nursing the drink Patrick had given her. She couldn't really taste it. Maybe that was a good thing. The fluid was in a plastic bottle, tinted blue. It was lukewarm, which felt strange because her fingers-indeed, her whole body-seemed cold. She didn't ask where it had come from. Holding the bottle gave her a barrier against the outside world, and the liquid felt good running down her throat.

Though her body felt numb, her heart was still racing. It had been a very close call. Actually several close calls. She had ridden waves of emotion from terror to relief and back again, over and over in the past few hours. The worst part was remembering Patrick's face as he apologized for not having a better rescue plan. He had done all he could to protect her, and she was sure he was facing his death still blaming himself for hers. But he had managed to save them both anyway, by leading Abbott and the others here. Now he stood just a bit too close to appear like just a colleague, and it didn't feel close enough. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and cling tightly.

But members of their FBI unit were still milling about. Keeping their private life private for now had been her idea. Patrick had agreed readily enough. She had a good guess as to why. If the strength of her feelings for him was still so overwhelming for her, what must it be like for him? They were quite the pair, alright. Almost as much in fear as they were in love.

She felt herself shaking, hating her weakness. This would be hard enough for him without the burden of seeing her distress. Not meeting his eyes, she tried to make light of her physical reactions. "Someday you'll have to teach me that biofeedback stuff. So nobody sees when I get freaked out after things like this."

A short, quiet bark of laughter drew her eyes to his face, wet with sweat, reddened eyes fixed on her face. He clasped her trembling hand with his own. "I always thought you were a natural. So cool in a crisis. You're the only one I know who could be giving me tips." And then his smile broke, and he touched his forhead to hers, his voice a tremulous whisper. "It just doesn't always work when we need it most."

"Shhh..." Soothing him came easily. She felt herself warming and calming as she ran a hand from his shoulder down the length of his arm. "When it counted you were brilliant, as usual. When you faced down Cole, even I almost believed you had snipers set up. When he shot out that mirror, I was afraid Cho would fall out of the tree."

Patrick's watery chuckle threatened sobs, and Teresa pulled back just enough to give him a once-over. He resisted the movement, clutching her arms. Teresa was almost pleased to know that he needed her physical comfort as badly as she needed his. "You okay?" She was surprised when he slowly shook his head.

"Not yet." Teresa felt her brow furrowing. Patrick hated to show weakness. He had to be pretty bad off to admit that the stress of this case had made a lasting impact on his well-being.

"Jane!" The sound of Abbott's voice calling across the clearing made both of them jump.

"Yeah?" He called back, his voice steadier this time. Teresa smiled. It was nice to see that he could still hold himself together to present his usual confidence for the rest of the world. And sweeter yet that he wasn't trying to put up a bold face for her.

"How is Lisbon holding up? Any injuries?" The supervising agent's voice rang with concern, but it was officious enough that the other remaining agents didn't seem unduly interested.

Jane's face clouded over again, and as he took a breath to say that she seemed fine, Lisbon called out, "I think I may have twisted my ankle."

Jane blinked and looked at her with surprise. She winked at him as Abbott crossed towards them in a few brisk strides and gave her an assessing look, and then a wry smile. "Jane, can you see that Agent Lisbon gets whatever medical attention is necessary? Cho and I can handle it from here." Still in that firm, official voice that he used for general instructions. Louder than necessary, given how close he stood to them. Then, in a quieter voice, "Good work, both of you. Get some rest, take care of each other. Debriefing can wait while we wrap everything up. I'll only call when we really need you. Take the time you need to recover."

And he moved on before Lisbon could voice her thanks.

Glancing back at Patrick, she was pleased to see his eyes crinkling with the force of his grin. "You heard the man, Lisbon," he announced heartily, "I'd better get you the care you need, right away." And he swept her up in his arms and carried her towards the car.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. She could hardly tell him that she could walk just fine when she had just announced a phony ankle injury. Perhaps this was undignified, maybe it made her look weak, and very likely people would talk. But at that moment, she couldn't make herself care. Being held and cared for just felt good.

Let them think what they want to think.


	2. Ticklish

**I hope that nobody is thrown that I have changed the name of this episode tag****. The original title worked for where I thought I was going, but this is more in line with my current direction. **

**To the guest reviewer who urged me to keep writing on Illusion of Control, thank you for your trust and patience. I haven't given up. I hope to have something for you soon.**

**To all those who read, review, and discuss with me in private messages, your encouragement and suggestions mean more to me than you know.**

**To the readers who guessed that my first chapter was not all there is to this story, you were right. I hope it lives up to your hopes.**

**To the professionals whose writing and creativity make The Mentalist what it is, this show is all yours, but thanks for letting me enjoy it in a non-profit, leisurely type way.**

Chapter 2: Ticklish

Teresa was often surprised how strong Jane was, given that walking to and from the tea kettle was the most regular exercise that she ever saw him get. As he carried her out of visual range of the scene of today's near miss, she was surprised how little he showed the effort. He trudged towards the vehicle in which he had come, His breathing audible, but even. His grasp at her back and under her legs felt secure enough that she did not fear a fall. But once no other agents were visible, she did begin to feel awkward. Wasn't he tired of bearing her weight? She wasn't really injured, shouldn't she walk for herself?

Before she could prod herself to insist on being set down, she felt herself hoisted over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Hey! Jane, come on, this really isn't necessary, I can..." her breath caught suddenly midsentence. A slight pressure at the bottom of her rib cage, where Jane was holding her firmly but gently with one arm, made her squirm. She suppressed a giggle. No way she would reveal that he really had found her Achilles' heal. Even if he did know already where she was ticklish, she would not give him the satisfaction.

"Ow!" she protested, hoping against all hope that he wouldn't see the ploy for what it was. The only response was the sound of the car door opening. Within moments, she was in the passenger seat. Jane fastened her seat belt with a look of concentration, then remained there with his arm resting casually against her side (she tried to keep her breathing steady) and his face inches from her own, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Now don't fuss, my dear. You have announced an ankle injury. Our illustrious leader has charged me with attending to your care. And I intend to take full advantage of this opportunity to play hooky that you so cleverly provided." He paused for a moment, and then carefully asked, "You aren't actually hurt, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'll live," she assured him.

He beamed at her, looking into her eyes with such love and relief that it was hard to hold his gaze. She knew he would kiss her. If she leaned in. If she smiled back. If she showed even a hint of how much she wanted it.

If she didn't spoil everything by crying.

The look of sorrow and dismay on his face as she started to heave uncontrollably, eyes watering, frustrated and shook her. "Hey. Teresa..."

"Sorry...I...don't know..." she gasped between sobs.

"Shhhh..." He pulled her against his chest, while she clutched convulsively at his shirt, leaving damp patches where her face rested. She felt his arms tightening around her and one hand stroking her hair as he whispered tender nonsense against her temple. Slowly, she stopped trying to force down her physical reaction and relaxed into his embrace. Gradually the storm subsided, leaving her spent and more than a little embarrassed.

She leaned back into the seat, and he let her, his eyes watchful on her face, full of concern and regret. And a question that he probably knew better than to ask. But she would answer it anyway.

"I think... I think I'm okay now." The memory of her bravado, just moments ago, made her cringe. "Honestly, I have no idea where that came from..."

A wry smile touched his face just briefly. "Well, my best guess would be... and of course I could be mistaken... that someone just threatened to kill us both at gunpoint. After you watched an innocent man shot to death. After spending a few days in prison for a crime you didn't commit. Other than that, I can't imagine what would upset you."

"But I've been a cop for years. Usually I can handle things like that." She murmured, avoiding his eyes. "I don't lose control. I move on to the next thing."

He lifted a hand to smooth the tears from her cheeks. "Sometimes our bodies just need to react without having to be strong. It's involuntary. Like being tickled." She felt herself tense at the words. He must have felt it, too, because he drew back, placing his hands in hers. "Teresa, I promise that your secret is safe with me."

His tone was so earnest that she felt a bit uneasy. She berated herself silently. Didn't she want for them to talk about serious things? She hid behind humor. "What, you think that outburst couldn't be heard all over Texas? The fact that I got overemotional is not a big secret."

He shook his head minutely. "I didn't mean that secret. I should have said all your secrets, really, but I meant..." He lay his hand on her side, near the sensitive spot. She couldn't help pulling back from the touch. "Yes, that." His knowing smile gave way to regret. "Teresa, you have given me the privilege and honor of knowing you...intimately. I take that very seriously. I wouldn't use your secrets against you."

She remembered the night that he had discovered the ticklish spot, how his eyes lit with delight when she squeaked at a casual touch, how he had attacked her gleefully until the moment passed into something more sensual. He had known not to prolong that moment into discomfort for her. It became a way to build and release tension, setting the stage for something more. She had in fact forgotten it until he mentioned her being ticklish before she went undercover.

"I know. I do trust you. Mostly." She took his hands and placed them back on her sides. Then she leaned in and touched her lips to his while her hands traveled up his chest to the collar of his shirt. They lingered at the juncture of his neck and neck and shoulder while the kiss deepened. Then the slightest exertion of pressure at just the right juncture made him gasp and jerk away reflexively.

She smiled into his startled expression with a mischievous wink. "Just don't forget. I know a few of your secrets, too."

He grinned and squeezed lightly, provoking the slightest of jumps. "Woman, you are definitely not well. I ought to get you home where you can...rest."


End file.
